


At least it's not a fucking Delorean

by megmegly



Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megmegly/pseuds/megmegly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles is mad, Derek is sad, Frank is a babe, and Gerard gets stuck in a bathroom stall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At least it's not a fucking Delorean

**Author's Note:**

> I was exploring a headcanon where they killjoys were also time jumpers and it kind of struck me that the perfect place for them to land would be Beacon Hills because let's be honest Gerard Way would FLIP HIS SHIT if he ever met a werewolf for realz.
> 
> But then it all got a wee bit serious and all kinds of feelsy so i'm not sure what I even think about it anymore. Either way, here is the miles longer than I intended Killjoy/Teen Wolf crossover crack!fic that none of you asked for and nobody wanted in all it's unbeta'd glory!!

So Stiles and Derek have this major blow out. Like, the biggest fight they’ve ever had, _ever_ , about literally _nothing_ and Derek yells about how Stiles is just _too fucking much all the fucking time_ and Stiles tells him that _he’s_ not the one who _stares_ and _growls_ and fucking _scents_ whenever there’s anyone else around and he just needs a fucking _break_ okay? He can’t fucking _breathe_ … And Derek goes too still and too quiet. Asks him in a whisper if he really means that. There are tears in Stiles’ eyes when he whispers back that _yeah_ , he thinks he does.

And Derek just closes down. shuts him out. doesn’t even try and fight. and Stiles doesn’t know if that makes it easier or harder but either way it’s done and he’s hiccupping back sobs as he walks away, drives his Jeep to the cheapest, shittiest bar he can find on the outskirts of the town, somewhere no-one will think to look for him, and rests his head on the wheel and just _breathes_ because yeah okay he really fucked it up this time but Derek didn’t even try and FIGHT for him okay, it hurts _so much_ and it kind of feels like they really might be done for good this time because they both said a lot of things they only kind of didn’t mean.

And suddenly there’s a knock on his window. and there’s this dude standing there, dark hair and tan skin and hazel eyes gazing with concern through the glass, and Stiles tries to smile weakly, to motion that he’s okay and that the dent in his windshield isn’t a new thing (he’s queen of the fucking supernatural and it’s kind of embarrassing that the most dangerous foe he’s encountered this year had been a fucking _fire hydrant_ , of all things) but the dude doesn’t seem to get the hint. All of a sudden Stiles is being hauled out of the now open door and into a tight hug and it doesn’t even occur to him how fucking weird the situation is because his heart _hurts_ and it feels _so good_ to be held by someone, just for a little bit, even if it’s not the right someone.

The dude is murmuring comforting nonsense into his hair and smoothing a soothing hand over his shoulders and Stiles has his face tucked into the dude's neck, fists clenched in the font of his shirt. he doesn’t know how long they stand there before he hiccups once, twice, a third time and finally manages to get his breathing under control. He squeezes his eyes tight shut one last time, pushes all the pain and anger and _fuckpleaseno_ into the box in the back of his mind that he usually reserves for only the very very bad before blinking them open to see.. huh. 

The dude has a huge scorpion tattooed high up on his neck (missing a leg, his brain supplies errantly), visible even over the high collar of the sleeveless utility jacket he’s wearing. Stiles takes a step back, and it’s only then that he realise how fucking _short_ the dude is, like Stiles isn’t exactly the tallest dude in the world but this dude’s gotta be at least four or five inches shorter than he is. And he’s dressed in probably the weirdest outfit he’s ever seen?? Under the utility jack (which has _leather shoulder pads_ , go figure) there’s a black baseball tee with bright sunny yellow sleeves slashed with black racing stripes, kind of like a short, muscly bumble bee because _oh yeah_ , the dude is fucking _built_. the only person he knows with more muscles is.. yeah. not going there. anyway. standard black jeans and heavy black leather combat boots and seriously WHAT IS IT within with _muscles_ and _leather_ and his LIFE, _jesus_. there’s white writing on the shirt that he cant quite make out and (maybe weirdest of all??) the dude has a tan leather gun holster slung over his shoulder with what he _hopes_ is a bright green water gun stashed in it. and _fuck_ , the dude has TATS. too many for Stiles to take in all at once because they literally cover his arms; stars and portraits and what looks like the virgin mary superimposed over angry red lines that kind of look like art and kind of look like scars. there's a heart pierced with an arrow peeking sneakily out of the red-white-blue sweatband on the dude's wrist, and letters splashed across his knuckles.. Stiles thinks he can maybe make out the word “Hallo” (german? Stiles always sucked at languages and he’s never left California so he can't be sure) on the hand that’s being extended towards him and-

oh. oops. he’s totally staring. really obviously. just like he’d fucking yelled at Derek for less than an hour ago and NOPE NOT GOING THERE.

The dudes eyes are warm and kind and old in a not very human way (which in supernatural town is not so weird, because the dude himself is thirty at _most_ ) and his smile is sincere even though by the expression on his face he absolutely knows that Stiles was kind of unconsciously checking him out just now.

He takes the hand, blushing guiltily, tries and and of fails a little to give a watery smile and jumps a lil when the other comes round in a firm two hand shake, palms warm and gentle but also calloused. maybe he’s a gardener? could explain the water gun.

“I’m..uh..” he begins shakily but the dude cuts him off. Tells him his name is Frank, he’s in a band. Hates seeing people cry and are you okay?? because that looked pretty intense in the car.

Stiles smile is a little more for real this time as he tells the dude his name and tries to explain without really explaining anything that he IS okay, just _mad_ and _sad_ and wants to get _REALLY DRUNK_. and the dude smiles, holds out his hand, and Stiles takes it because really what else can he do.

*

When Frank takes the kid’s hand he knows he made the right choice going over to the car, because the kid (Stiles, his brain corrects) is still shaking a little bit and frank knows okay, he just _knows_.

Because he’s been around a long time, okay. Also, the kids eyes (big, watery, amber, _intense_ ) are exactly the same as Gerard’s are whenever they fight. 

He wonders idly where Gerard is right now, cuz the gang’s been gone for a while. Mikey had wanted to go for a fucking hike in the woods, of all things, and this area is one of those that BLI are super interested in meaning there's some sort of energy here that they need to be alert for and so Gerard had forced Ray to go with him, the fucking _hypocrite_ , because as soon as they’d wandered off up the trail Gerard had jumped in the trans am grumbling something about waffles and (predictably) coffee. Frank hadn’t wanted to be left behind, but he also hadn’t wanted them to end up stranded in BLI territory (even decades-in-the-past BLI territory) and so had elected to stay behind to watch the bikes. parking lot carjackers will fuck you up whatever decade you're in.

He’d been cleaning something metal (mechanics is Ray’s thing; frank can polish like a professional but give him a spanner and it’s _abort mission motherfucker_ ) when the jeep had skidded into the lot of the bar they’re using as a base (cuz WHY NOT okay, they all miss booze a little too much to pass up the opportunity whenever they get it), and from his position he can clearly see the kid fucking _sobbing_ into the steering wheel.

and his heart _swells_ okay, because Frank is a fucking sweetheart who hates seeing anything in pain (for reference, see HIS ENTIRE LIFE HISTORY) and yeah it’d been a snap decision to make his way over to see if there was anything he could do, and a downright fucking risky one to haul the kid out of the car and into his arms once he’d gotten a look at the absolutely _wrecked_ expression on his face, but the firm grip of Stiles’ fingers in his own as he leads him gently into the bar is reassurance enough that he’s doing a good thing.

It’s only once they get to the bar and order that it occurs to him that Stiles looks all of about fifteen (all gangly limbs and floppy hair and skinny jeans and what he thinks is _maybe_ a marvel graphic on his shirt?? it’s been a while since he’s had access to comics of any kind) and as far as he can remember (and to be fair, he’s not entirely sure where they are so even if he could he might be wrong) the legal drinking age never got quite that low before it went to shit entirely.

The bartender seems to be having the same thoughts (or a decade-appropriate approximation of them anyway, Frank thinks a little bitterly) as he eyes Stiles speculatively but Stiles just snorts, pulls out his wallet and flashes his ID. He still doesn’t quite believe that the kid’s twenty four even with the proof in front of his eyes, but he’s had enough experience growing up looking like jailbait to know not to call him out.  
He can’t help raising an eyebrow when they slide into a booth though, gesturing to the ID that stiles still has clutched in his hand. Stiles huffs a little bit, scrubs his hands over his face, tells him it’s fucking _real_ okay and the asshole at the bar fucking _knows_ it, his dad is the _sherriff_ and has been forever, _everybody_ knows him and how fucking old he is because they’ve seen him _every fucking day_ since he was born, okay?

Frank snorts and holds his hands up as placatingly as he can. The kid wilts a little, rests his head on his folded arms on the grimy table and mumbles an apology. Frank doesn't think twice before he’s curving a hand round Stiles shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Stiles turns his head on his arms, blinks up gratefully at him and sighs, sits up and slumps back into the faded leather of the booth.

And Frank is _intrigued_ , okay, partly because hopping through time and space with his long term (read; REALLY long term, like… decades, probably) boyfriend and his long term boyfriend’s brother, and his long term boyfriend’s brother’s equally long term boyfriend (who also happen to be his best friends but the long way round is more fun) doesn't really afford that much actual _people_ drama (not counting, you know, all the _people_ trying to kill them any time they’re back in their own timeline) and he’s always been a huge gossip at heart (and there's something stinging in his chest but he resolutely doesn't think of her as he ignore it). but partly also because this kid - Stiles - reminds him so much of Gerard when they first met. fresh out of college with big eyes and big dreams and that deep rooted frustration etched into the lines of his face that over time Frank’s come to recognise as the desire to be anywhere else but here battling with whatever it is that’s making him stay.

He knows they’re not the same, of course he does, but his gut twinges a little at the expression on Stiles’ face as he closes his eyes, breathes out a painful sigh. He wants to tell him not to wish he life away. wants to tell him to be happy with what he has because it’s _so good_ , he cant even tell him how good it is because there’s so much coming that will tear him down and fuck him up and make him long for whichever tiny piece of _calmquietsafe_ it is that they’ve pitched up in as keenly than he’s ever felt anything before. They visited Jersey. Just once, right after the first time they hopped. Leaving was the hardest thing Frank’s ever had to do (and he’s done so much. _so much_ ) They'd all agreed, silently, sincerely, that that was goodbye for real.

He doesn’t, obviously, because no-one can ever know who he is or where he comes from or what he _knows_. Instead he slumps back next to Stiles, clinks the bottle in his hand against Stiles’ own, takes a long swig and thinks of home.

*

So Derek’s never lost a limb (because the thing with the kelpies doesn’t count and his toes all grew back the same evening) but he’s pretty sure he knows how it feels because this right now? this all encompassing, heart wrenching, punch-to-the-gut aching _wrongness_ that overcomes him the moment stiles whispers that he doesn’t want him anymore… it’s like someone’s ripping away a part of his soul with every word and there’s nothing he can do stop it happening.

it’s like everything just stops making sense. He can still feel and sense and probably even respond if he tries, but he doesn’t understand what’s happening, cant process or interpret or _fix_ it when Stiles pushes past him. Derek can smell the salt of the tears in his eyes, the frenetic thrum of Stiles’ heartbeat is loud in his ears and he wants to grab him and pull him close and also shake him until he fucking _gets_ it but it’s like his body’s just stopped functioning and his brain is yelling at him to move!!! stop!!! protect!!! but he’s fucked if he can do anything beyond breathe and squeeze his eyes shut and will his hands to stop shaking like if he can keep it together physically then it’ll stop his whole world from falling apart.

But like… it is. And so Derek moves, eventually. walks over to where his phone is sitting on arm of the couch, thinks about calling Scott to let him know Stiles is out there and emotional but he fumbles the buttons, cant get his numb fingers to co-operate and so he gives up, tosses it aside.

The house is too loud and too quiet at all once with Stiles not it in and all of a sudden Derek has to get _out_ because if he thought having Stiles around making noise and in his face all the time was irritating it’s NOTHING compared to this horrible emptiness, and sure maybe he cant make Stiles come back and fill it again but that doesn’t mean he has to stay in it himself.

He kind of wants to let the wolf out and just run until he’s too tired to think anymore but Chris had called yesterday to say that there are hunters in the area and he knows he wont have it together enough to be able to protect himself if anything gets too close. 

Instead he walks, down the driveway and the dirt road and through the burbs until he reaches the centre of the town. he’s walking fast, so caught up in his head that barely twenty minutes pass before he’s slowing to a stop outside susie’s, the smell of breakfast food filling his lungs. he breathes in. swallows hard. he’s not going to cry. that’s not what he does. but he feels like maybe he can let himself wallow for a while before he has to figure out what the _fuck_ he’s gonna do.

So he goes in and orders and drinks his coffee (laced with the smallest hint of wolfsbane because susie is a SAINT who knew his mother and together they figured out just the right amount to add to give an approximation of a caffeine buzz) while it’s still lava hot like it’s some sort of sick punishment and stares morosely at the tacky wall posters and drinks another cup and stares some more and drinks _another_ and still it feels like the world’s imploding but now it’s a little muted by the wolfsbane jitters and the insistent pressure on his bladder.

he gets up, heads towards the bathroom in the back and pisses and zips and is just washing his hands when this tiny voice pipes up from the other stall. at first he kinda just assume that he’d imagined it cuz bathroom chatting is not really a _thing_ , right? but then it comes again, a kind of nasally voice asking hello? is someone there? cuz he's..uh... a little. trapped?

And Derek sighs because he is possibly the person in the world that is the least well equipped to deal with this kind of thing. Stiles is the one who does the _people stuff_ but now Stiles is _gone_ and Derek DOESN’T NEED HIM okay he is FINE on his own and so he grits his teeth and grunts an affirmative.

The voice sounds SO relieved that it would be kind of hilarious if Derek was in any other mood but. you know. he’s not. so when the voice tells him that.. um.. the lock is kind of stuck??? and he's tried pushing but the door wont budge and he really doesn’t wanna crawl under the door because this is a public bathroom and they don't really have medicaid where he comes from?? and could Derek maybe please get a manager cuz he’s a little claustrophobic and he’s freaking out a little and-

It’s only by biting the inside of his cheek really REALLY hard that Derek’s able to ignore how familiar and _right_ the babbling feels to his ears, escalating both in pitch and volume, and tells the voice to stand back. He knows the kid that’s working today cuz Stiles went to high school with him (yeah, they’ve been together that long and fuck Derek _hurts_ at the idea of anything else but he CLAMPS IT DOWN) and theres no fucking way Greenberg is gonna know what to do. The voice (sounding only a little confused) lets him know he’s away from the door and Derek heaves his shoulder against it, the lock snapping as easily as he knew it would. (when Laura died and he’d first become an Alpha he’d taken out a lot of the pain on the forest around the house. snapping a deadbolt doesn't really feel like a challenge when you’ve punched redwoods into submission, you know??)

he catches the door before it can crush the owner of the voice (good thing he does too because he’s kind of accidentally also snapped the hinges) and places it carefully against the wall. he’ll call susie later to explain and pay for the damages - he’s not proud to admit that it’s not the worst damage he and Stiles have inflict on the diner but Susie is one of the only links to his mother that he has left now and she’s always kind about it, even when he can’t really help her to understand fully why there’s a giant hole in her counter.

suddenly there are arms around his neck and a face burying itself in his shoulder and he just barely manages to stop himself from growling because HELLO, PERSONAL BUBBLE BEING BREACHED RN but the body against his is shaky and now that he’s paying attention he can hear the accelerated heartbeat, smell the sharp-sour scent of genuine fear radiating off the person in waves.

he lets them cling, soothes the best he can with his arms between their bodies, murmers that it’s okay, they’re safe, he’s got them (even though he has no idea who _they_ are because he’s not yet seen a face to match the voice and actually, technically, _they’ve_ got _him_ ) and eventually the heartbeat begins to calm, the stench of fear that Derek’s unfortunately all too used to fading gradually to be replaced by..huh. dust, overwhelmingly dust, laced with something fizzy-sweet like those sugary cola bottle sweets you get when you’re a kid and then something…else. metallic, electric, kind of like ozone and kind of like lightening and a little like gunpowder. it’s… not like any scent he’s encountered before, and now that he’s concentrating there’s something generally… not quite right?? about the body in his arms. it’s human, definitely, he’s certain of that, but also he’s kind of just. not??

he doesn’t realise he’s part shifted until the body beneath him jolts a little and pulls away and suddenly there’s the tangy scent of blood and shit, his claws are out and he’s scratching the body in front of him through the front of their thin t-shit (and _fuck_ if that doesn't just sum up how fucked up he is right now, it's been fucking YEARS since he's had an uncontrolled shift). 

Huge, round, shocked eyes look up at him through a (kind of gross) curtain of greasy fire-truck red hair and Derek has to _focus_ okay cuz he’s part shifted in front a total stranger who smells _wrong_ and whose eyes are so like Stiles’ that if he looks any deeper he is absolutely going to cry.

he doesn’t even know how to _begin_ to explain, cuz he knows what he looks like (could see it in the bathroom mirror even if he didn’t; his eyes are flashing red, the shape of his face contorted into half-shift and _oh hi there_ , there are his fangs) and there’s never really been any rational way to excuse it in the multi-millennia that werewolves have been a thing. 

apparently though, it doesn’t matter. the shock is gone in a moment, replaced by.. is that fucking _excitement_?? the guy in front of him looks absolutely elated at the sight of Derek’s decidedly non-human features and actually _lifts his hands_ in an aborted motion towards Derek’s face as if he wants to touch but realises that that’s kind of weird because they’re strangers in a bathroom so actually yeah, more than _kind of_.

Derek moves another couple of paces backwards, tries not to look as spooked as he feels because rule number one in Beacon Hills has always been _never show your weakness_ , takes in the body in front of him properly. 

everything about it is dusty. a gaudy, bright leather jacket in cobalt blue (Derek knows this because it is Stiles’ favourite colour and was item #7 on the list of _things Stiles’ mega-hot boyfriend Derek Hale needs to remember about his fucking awesome boyfriend Stiles_ that Stiles had given them on their one month anniversary along with a cheeky wink and a blowjob against his kitchen counter) and jeans that he thinks maybe used to be gray. 

Derek’s actually pretty sure he owns the same motorcycle boots as the ones that the guy has on, and when he turns to take in the sorry sight of the stall door leaning against the wall Derek's pretty sure he spots a pair of fingerless biker gloves made from ratty leather peeking out of the guy’s back pocket. As he swing backs to face Derek the weird scent mix of _ozonelightninggunpowder_ suddenly flares really intensely and Derek zeroes in on the holster around the guy’s waist where a bright yellow pistol hangs nonchalantly like they’re not in a tiny diner bathroom in The Middle Of Nowhere, Northern California. Derek feels his hackles raise at the sight and he growls deep in his chest because while he likes to maintain the separation between werewolf and _animal_ as much as he possibly can, this dude has a GUN and he’s looking at Derek fucking _gleefully_ and Chris had said there were hunters around and _fuck_ , if he fucking dies in this fucking bathroom Stiles will never forgive him and-

The dude _giggles_ , honest to god giggles like an actual child and _claps his hands_ and Derek doesn’t know whether to be amused or _terrified_ when the he flurries into action and starts to babble again as he washes his hands (which is proving to be an arduous task because apparently dude is a flailer) because oh my god Derek is an actual REAL LIFE WEREWOLF he thought they were just a MYTH this is the COOLEST THING EVER Mikey is going to be SO PSYCHED and suddenly Derek is being dragged back into the main diner area and into a booth (and sure if he’d wanted to resist he could have but the guy doesn't really smell _dangerous?_ and actually tbh Derek just doesn't have the will right now to argue).

A hand is offered and he takes it, shakes it for want of anything better to do, and the guy tells him his name is Gerard although _technically_ when they’re hopping he’s supposed to go by Party Poison in case they cross timelines but Derek is a WEREWOLF holy FUCK how does that even happen?

And it takes a moment to realise the guy had stopped, is waiting for an answer and all Derek can manage is a startled kind of grunt before the guy, _Gerard,_ is talking again at lightning speed about a bunch of things Derek doesn’t really understand (he makes a mental note to google ‘better living industries’ when he isn’t in such a weird goddamn situation). he winds down slowly when greenberg brings them a mug of coffee each (and whaddyaknow, he isn’t _totally_ useless after all) and eventually comes to a stop, moaning kind of obscenely when he takes a sip in a move that is _all Stiles_.

Derek pushes the thought away and takes the moment of silence to introduce himself. Gerard meets his eyes then, smiles at him kindly, and Derek can see that even though he can’t physically be that much older than Derek is himself (maybe a decade, MAX) his eyes are as wise and sure as his mother's had been. Derek has to ask then, can’t help himself and really it’s only fair because Gerard’s clearly fully aware that Derek isn’t what he seems but Derek has no idea what is is that makes Gerard different, because he _is_. Derek is sure of that.

Gerard takes the questions, mulls it over for a moment. Derek hopes he’s not being rude in asking because.. well. actually he doesn’t really care, but it seems to be okay because Gerard’s grinning, stretching, motioning Derek to move closer to him and then, in a low voice, begins to speak.

*

Okay so it’s not been the _best_ trip, Gerard has to admit. Frankly, they’ve stopped in enough places before where he’s not _locked himself in a fucking bathroom_ that it probably wouldn’t even rank in the top 100, but he’s trying to think positively right now and so he’s searching for silver linings hidden in the grimy linoleum pattern under his feet when he hears the door open and he holds his breath and wishes as hard as he can because the stall is really small and he really doesn’t want to die here because he doesn’t even know what year it is and Ray is going to be _so mad_ that he went off alone and will probably kill Frank for letting him do it.

When the door snaps off it’s hinges, the metal door creaking and groaning and then coming away cleanly like it hadn’t just been fused in place by solid steel and a thick iron deadbolt, he can’t help but hug his saviour as hard as he can until he feels the trembling in his bones begin to subside a little. his usual habitat is wide and open and _desert_ and the enclosed, synthetic surroundings of the stall had jangled his nerves just a little too keenly.

The sharp claws ripping through his shirt had been kind of a surprise if he’s honest (and he likes to be, because there’s not really any place for lies when all you’ve got is the shirt on your back and the people at your side) but actually didn’t even register in comparison to the motherfucking WEREWOLF!!!!!! who’d apparently saved him from his bathroom tomb.

He can’t really stop talking (not that he ever really can) because the guy is SO COOL, dark and brooding and dressed all in black and leather and sharp lines just like Gerard had back in the day, except Gerard’s eyes had never FLASHED RED and he’d never had CLAWS AND FANGS (although he’s pretty sure he made Mikey some for a wolverine costume one year).

He gets distracted a little by the coffee that the boy at the counter brings over (a werewolf!!! drinking _coffee_!!!) and startles a little when the werewolf(!!!!!!!!!) introduces himself as _Derek Hale, pleased to meet you._ The formality is a weird little throwback, one he kind of really appreciates in that way where you don’t realise how much you’re missing something until you get it again after it’s been gone for a long time. There’s not much use for last names in the zones, and politeness is a commodity most people just can’t afford anymore.

Derek’s been looking at him oddly since Gerard first flung himself on him in the bathroom (which, in retrospect, was a pretty freaking dangerous move considering Derek!! is a werewolf!!!) and he tries to smile as openly as he can. Everything he can remember about the supernatural from his comic book days tells him that he’s probably giving off all sorts of weird vibes for Derek to pick up on (not least because on a fundamental, molecular level he is completely out of sync with this timeline) and he figures if anyone will listen and understand their story (at least the bits he’s allowed to tell) it’s a freaking _werewolf_.

It’s actually a relief when Derek just comes out and asks. No fucking around, just a blunt _okay so what are you?_ that Gerard is more than ready to answer.

It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts; it’s been a long time coming (and going, and coming, and going) and he’s gotta be careful because theres a bunch of stuff he just cant say?? stuff that if he lets slip he might fracture the fabric of the timeline (or however it is that Ray explains it, because he’s not a fucking physicist okay he draws _cartoons_ ). When he’s sure that he’s safe, the stuff he can say and the stuff he cant lined up in his head like a storyboard peppered with big red crosses, he launches into it.

Obviously he can’t talk about the Pig Bombs. once they’d fallen, destroying the city - the state, the country, the world? gerard doesn’t know - most people were dead. and those that weren’t? mostly they just wished that they were. he can’t speak about the desert. can’t mention the dracs that patrol the zones that divide what’s left of the west into bands of rapid fire and long, dusty, thirsty days without people or shelter. Korse too has to stay a secret, much as gerard wishes he could paint every wall he comes across in this old version of the world with dire warnings about him and his company that’s so beyond evil Gerard can barely comprehend it somedays. he wants to say all of these things but he knows he can’t, knows that that’s not what he’s here for.

And so he talks about the killjoys, and the people they’ve met and lost along the way. he talks about the diner, hidden deep in the desert, about how mikey and ray fixed up the bikes and frank learned to tap groundwater so that they could survive even during the drought season. he talks about the stuff he wishes he could keep with him, about music and comic books and pillows and microvave popcorn, really good drawing pencils and his favourite sketchpad which he managed to hold on to for so long but he lost in a fire in zone three a long time ago. he has to stop the tremor threatening to creep into his voice when Derek asks him about his family. when he tells hims how much his misses his mom and dad he’s pretty sure he sees an answering pain in Derek’s eyes, and his gut twists guiltily when his first thought is that at least Derek can't lose them _again._

after debating a little with a voice in his head that sounds an awful lot like Ray, Gerard tells him about the trans am and what it can do. Derek snorts just like frank had the first time gerard laid it out for him, and _yeah_ okay, it feels just a little too convenient that the universe could have aligned perfectly with the fictional work of doc brown. not for the first time he’s fucking glad that they’re not hopping around in a fucking delorean because if they were he thinks he’d have to punch himself in the face every time just to check. he’s fairly certain Derek doesn’t really believe him as it is but that’s okay, he doesn’t really need to. 

When he offers to show Derek, the werewolf’s eyebrows shoot sky high (pretty impressively too considering their magnitude) and he can’t restrain the giddy laugh that bubbles out of him. it feels _so good_ to be talking about this stuff to someone that isn’t the gang (not that he doesn’t love them more than life itself because he _does_ , as fiercely as he knows how) but he’s a storyteller and really their lives are one of the best stories he knows he’ll ever tell (even with all the juicy parts left out).

He tries to explain the theory as best he can, once they’re both sitting in the front seat of the car. it’s something to do with contrasting molecular plains and atomic compression and there’s definitely something about ‘stimulated emission’ (he and frank had giggled at that for like twenty minutes straight because they’re _children_ , okay) that he just doesn’t understand but the essence of it is that they’re kind of not really there?? like, they _are_ , but not in the same way that Derek is? their own timeline has a specific atomic makeup and every time they hop they end up somewhere where basic molecular structures are just slightly different. or something. and what this all means is that they can’t actually exist for longer than a couple of days at a time in any timeline that isn’t theirs.

he doesn’t tell him why they do it, though. Derek does ask, and the only response Gerard can give him is a shrug and a _wouldn’t you?_ because it’s been decades, okay. too many fucking years spent searching for clues, for the missing link, for _anything_ that might give them the upper hand in the war they didn’t ask for and can't win. at this point the mission’s just kind of faded into routine, and Gerard can’t complain. he knows how lucky they are; the hopping sickness and frozen DNA and the migraines that can last for days at a time are a small price to pay for the chance to shower without worrying where the next tank of water will come from, to eat food that doesn’t come from a can, to sleep without one eye open all the time.

it’s kind of a cruel irony that they only way to prove his story is to leave, but really Gerard knows that’s for the best. travelling the way they do, it’s both a blessing and a curse, and either way in this timeline the technology won't be invented for a good long while.

When Derek asks about Mikey (because of course he’s mentioned him too many times to count), Gerard has to facepalm because the sun is low in the sky and he’s so fucking late, _fuck_. he slams the car into drive and peels away from the kerb cursing under his breath, barely registering the shocked, kind of pissed off growl that comes from the werewolf (!!!) (oops.) beside him.

he does manage to apologise as he drives, tells Derek he’ll drop him home or back at his car or _wherever_ , just he needs to get back to the gang first okay because they wont know where he is and Ray is going to _flip_.

Derek, to his credit, just grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like _dusty asshole_ which will be all kinds of hilarious to Gerard once he’s not freaking the fuck out, thank you very much.

As it is, he just grits his teeth and drives.

*

So Stiles and Frank have been drinking and chatting and kind of flirting?? maybe?? he’s not sure, because he’s a tactile guy at the best of times and he kind of suspects that Frank is just as bad. and like, obviously he’s not really planning on doing anything about it if they _are_ because as much as he wants to punch Derek repeatedly in the face right now he’s also gotten enough distance to realise that he also kind of wants to squeeze him as tight as he can and never let go until they’re both just dust and bones.

it’s nice, though, sitting here and kind-of flirting with some hot, older guy that he doesn’t really know that well. because Frank _is_ hot, like, _seriously._ the longer Stiles looks the more he appreciates the patchwork of tan, tattooed skin and the hard muscles that flex in his arms when he stretches and takes a drink and the alert intensity of his eyes that sort of don’t really fit into his face?? (which is so young it’s almost childlike, dude has fucking _cheek_ making out like Stiles in jailbait) he’s kind of like a shorter, tanner, WAY less grumpy Derek and it’s weirdly comforting just having him around.

they’re maybe three drinks in each when two other dudes stroll into the bar. judging by the way they’re dressed there’s no way they can be anyone other than Frank’s friends. dusty jeans and fingerless biker gloves and heavy boots and more fucking _leather_ , one of them in a red jacket and the other in a pretty awesome dark denim/leather combo with the goddamn stars and stripes emblazoned across the back. They've both also got bright water guns (red and blue respectively) slung in holsters at their hips. one of them is wearing a fucking motorcycle helmet of all things, the words _good luck_ scrawled in white against bright yellow to match the equally bright yellow zebra print of the shirt that stiles can see peeking out from under the red leather.

All in all, they're kind of a freak show compared to the usual monochrome grays and blue denim and muted flannel that makes up the everyday uniform of the standard beacon hills resident. The one without the helmet (although that's not entirely accurate because his fro is so big that there's no way it doesn't have significant cushioning properties) is laughing really dorkily kind of like Scott does sometimes and helmet boy's punching him on the shoulder.

Frank calls out a greeting and they turn, the helmet comes off and the new guys are smiling big at them across the bar, helmet boy even gives a little wave with his free hand. They chat to the bartender for a minute or so and then head over towards them with a couple of bottles in each hand.

Stiles feels Frank's hand oh his shoulder squeezing reassuringly as the newcomers slide into the booth opposite them, helmet thunking heavily on the wooden tabletop. Frank does a quick round of names that Stiles isn’t really alert enough to catch and explains how he found Stiles upset in the parking lot and that they've been keeping each other company (mercifully in not-too graphic detail because he knows what his gross crying face looks like and it’s rly not very pretty). 

One of them (helmet boy) asks where someone called Gee is and Frank tells them he went to look for waffles (meaning he’s probably at Susie’s, assuming he made it into town at all). Dorky Laugh looks pretty pissed for a moment or two until helmet boy grabs his hands, kisses each of his knuckles (which, weirdly cute? Stiles makes a mental note), asks him why he’s even surprised any more and Dorky Laugh huffs a little and smiles and says that he just _worries_ okay. helmet boy’s all _and i love you for it_ *flutters eyelashes*and then they’re kind of just staring dopily at each other for a bit. Frank gags a little, rolls his eyes at Stiles kind of conspiratorially and then reaches across the table and steals both their beers, handing one off to stiles and darting backwards to dodge the flailing limbs and disgruntled protests.

And so stiles tries to smile through the sad/tipsy cloud that's kind of fogged his brain a little as Mikey (helmet boy) and Ray (Dorky Laugh) tell frank about the hiking trails that they discovered in the forests around. he thinks idly that it’s a good thing these dude weren’t here two weeks ago to get tangled up in the mess of bodies littering the forest that had alerted them to the presence of a rogue wendigo hiding out in the hills beyond the preserve. it had been really fucking sad to be honest; a family had gotten trapped in a ravine on a camping trip during some freak flooding and had mostly died apart from one of the kids, maybe 12 or 13 years old, who was left on his own trapped at the bottom with shredded ropes and no supplies and surrounded by the bodies of his mom and dad and brothers. 

it’s.. he feels gross, and guilty, and sick to him stomach even just remembering being told the story. the kid had had to eat his family to stay alive, which is enough to fundamentally change someone forever, fuck them up beyond repair all on its own which you’d _think_ would be enough horror for one story but NOPE, not done yet. the weird mystical mojo that radiates across Beacon Hills had felt the fundamental shift in the kid. Stiles is familiar enough with the old Algonquin legends that he understands a little bit of what happened; the freezing cold ravine in winter, a starving kid forced to eat the only thing he could. End game though had been a tween vessel filled to the brim with evil native american cannibal spirits, and fighting that had really _sucked_.

He gets kind of lost in the memory for a bit, mostly ignoring the conversation happening next to him when he’s brought back to himself with a jolt that has them all staring at him, because one of them mentions finding a big white manor house in the middle of the preserve and _that's.. kinda.. um. that’s his house?? he lives there?? or at least, he did until this afternoon when he kinda sorta broke up with the owner?? and wow okay now he has nowhere to sleep because he fucked it up oh my god what is he gonna do?? cuz his dad’s in Jamaica on vacation with Melissa and Scott and Kira have the baby so he cant go_ there _and like Lydia would probably help but she’s still kinda recovering from all the Banshee business she had to do with the Wendigo fuck FUCK this literally can’t get any worse_ AND THEN HE’S SOBBING INTO FRANK’S SHOULDER AGAIN because he’s worked himself up almost to a panic attack in front of nearly complete strangers and oh my god he needs to get a _grip_.

Frank holds him just like he did before, lets him get it all out and Stiles wants to be embarrassed but everything hurts with Derek not here, he needs to go and talk to him and fucking _fix_ this but maybe not right now because he can’t really breathe properly and Frank’s arms feel really calm and safe and _okay_.

when he’s calmed down again he pulls away and tries to apologise for being a total fucking state but Frank just shushes him. Ray and Mikey both smile sympathetically, reach their joined hands across the table towards him and pet his arm in a kind of weird, two-part gesture that he thinks is meant to be soothing but is mostly just kind of amusing and the smile that pulls at his cheeks is slightly more real.

Frank signals the bartender who brings over _another_ round of beers and Frank removes his arm from around Stiles shoulders, turns so he’s facing him square on (or at least as much as he can within the confines of the booth) and reaches out, takes Stiles’ hands in his own and says that it’s time now for Stiles to _tell auntie Frankie what’s wrong._

Stiles kind of half giggles and half hiccups and figures _yeah_ , it probably is.

*

It’s pretty much as Frank had suspected tbh. young love is the absolute best and also the fucking worst, and Frank is _so glad_ that it’s not something he’s ever gonna have to deal with again. partly of course because Gerard is the most solid, constant, irrevocable force in his life and even when they’re fighting the idea of living without him is actually inconceivable to him, and also because although he might still _look_ 32 (and thank fuck for that particular little trans-molecular quirk. _stimulated emission_ , who knew?) he’s pretty sure that the literal decades that he and Gerard have been together in no way ingratiate them to any category within the labelling system that includes the word ’young’.)

anyway. Stiles is hurting, a _lot_ , and Frank is kind of gutted to find out that there’s not really a lot he can do to fix it and also glad that there’s something that someone else _can_. This _Derek_ kind of sounds like a dick (or at least, super possessive and kind of weirdly obsessed with smelling things which is _not_ something Frank it about, thanks) but it’s also really obvious how in love Stiles is with him and, like… Frank _gets_ that?? because Gerard can be an egotistical, maniacal _asshole_ sometimes when they’ve been trapped in the zones for too long and Frank loves him through it because what else is he gonna do? even when Frank thinks he might actually snap and set fire to all of the hair on his stupid dyed head just to teach him a fucking lesson, Gerard is still _Frank's_. and actually, Gerard would probably also know what a Wendigo (Wendago? Wendogo? whatever the fuckin thing is that Stiles keeps mumbling about, staring forlornly at his half empty bottle) - frank makes a mental note to ask him when he gets back.

Speaking of though, he’s been gone for kind of a while?? Like okay Frank is a little drunk but he’s pretty sure it’s been a couple of hours or more and even Gerard can’t really spend _that_ much time getting breakfast food. Ray’s obviously having the same thought if his expression is anything to go by when Frank shoots him a _look_ (Mikey’s done six tequila shots in quick succession and promptly fallen asleep, tucked tightly under Ray’s arm for safekeeping). Stiles is still focussed intently on the bottle clutched in his grip, and Ray tries to gesture without disturbing him or the softly snoring Mikey that _no he has no idea where Gerard is and yeah he’s kind of worried should they go look for him????_

Frank shrugs noncommittally. Gerard, despite all appearances to the contrary, is actually the most capable and efficient of all of them in pretty much any situation that doesn’t involve needles or colour co-ordination. He’s more than likely totally fine. The fact that he’s not here with them sits a little uneasily in Frank’s chest but.. like.. he feels like that whenever they’re not together?? so it’s not really an objective instinct that he can trust as not being an overreaction.

so yeah, he figures they give it another half hour maybe before they start to get actually worried. it’s not like Gerard hasn’t always been super prone to distraction anyway. back when they were just dumb kids making music he’d always get lost on the way back to the studio cuz he was watching a street artist and forgot which way he’d come or been so engrossed in a comic that he’d missed his subway stop. at least back then they’d had cell phones to call, an easy way to keep in contact with eachother. they don't bother now; they don't work at all in the zones and they’re never really in any place long enough for it to be practical to get them. they’d toyed with walkies for a while, but the signals were never the same from place to place and Mikey’s the only one who knows how to tune them properly. it’s kind a moot point though because Gerard never answered their calls back in the day anyway so he sure as hell wouldn’t now.

turns out they didn’t need to worry anyways, because suddenly the door to the bar is flung wide open with a loud bang (making everyone jump and swear and causing Ray to spill his drink all over Mikey's lap which _hilarious_. Gerard stands in the doorway staring at the door like it’s personally offended him and _fuck_ frank missed that fucking dork. he’s a little flushed and suddenly his eyes are casting around before they lock with Franks, taking in the booth and the booze, a mix of guilt and relief and then something else that Frank cant quite place flashing across his face as his eyes roam across the other three sat with him.

Frank just rolls his eyes and waves him over because yah, Gerard has shitty timekeeping skills but he's also always very apologetic about it and it’s not like he ever _means_ to go MIA. And Gerard… looks back through the open door??? almost like he’s talking to someone, hands gesturing wildly which okay is _really weird_ because Gerard is never normally so avid when he’s talking to strangers on account of them being, you know, _outlaws_ who are _on the run_ but yep?? he’s definitely being pretty fucking avid to whoever it is that frank can’t see. 

Gerard huffs audibly, gestures one last time before shrugging and apparently giving up, turns back into the bar and heads towards where they’re sat. Frank reaches up for a kiss hello (because its _nice_ and he _can_ and this kid’s got him feeling kind of clingy and sentimental rn) which Gerard returns eagerly, smiles against Frank’s lips and _yeeeahhhhh_ frank _loves_ him. he pulls away pretty swiftly tho and once they’re separate Frank can see he’s got his I’M SO EXCITED I’M GONNA BURST face firmly in place. he’s just about to ask what’s up when Mikey pipes up (because he’s apparently awake now??) and tells Gerard to spill before he hurts himself.

Gerard’s all oh my god mikey you will never BELIEVE what happened okay I met this guy and he’s SO COOL and his eyes and his teeth are INSANE and he dresses like we used to oh _man_ i miss wearing black and not smelling like dead things all the time (and Ray’s all HEY but Gerard just ignores him and frank’s internally all HEY because :((( frank is cool and has nice teeth and eyes too and is also sitting RIGHT HERE HELLO) and oh my god mikey you have to meet him it’s SO CRAZY i can’t believe they’re really real oh my god but he wont come in because-

at which point frank’s like ok i am _done_ that is ENOUGH and puts his hand over Gerards mouth and frowns as deeply as he can because Gerard is talking about another boy right in front of him like they’ve not been sucking each others dicks for like a hundred years. Gerard squeaks and tried to pull away but then their eyes meet and he’s all… FRANK NO and kisses him and okay like _yes_ this is weird, but Gerard is still kissing him like he always does, like it’s the first time all over again, like he’ll never get enough of it, so maybe it’s okay after all.

Mikey’s busy gagging in the background and it’s Ray that interrupts them and is all _what do you mean you can’t believe they’re really real?????_ and Gerard’s eyes go super wide and his grin gets kind of maniacal and he leans in close and stage whispers that _he’s a werewolf_ (!!!!!!!)

and frank kind of scoffs and mikey looks like he cant decide what he thinks and ray just rolls his eyes and looks faintly amused but they all jump like two feet in the air when Stiles (who tbh Frank had kind of forgotten about) stands up so fast he knocks all the bottles off of the table with a huge crash. he’s all _what did you say_ , low and kind of intense and Gerard looks kind of scared and kind of ecstatic and goes _you’re Stiles, right??_ which… what??? because Frank is pretty sure Gerard was long gone before Stiles showed up and none of them have any connection to wherever it is that they are so there’s no way he should know the kid’s name..

and Stiles just nods back like it makes total sense that gerard would know who he is. Gerard glances briefly backwards towards the door before leaning in, whispering something in Stiles ear that Frank doesn’t catch but has Stiles up like a flash, elbowing his way past Frank out of the booth and racing out into the parking lot while Gerard yells _TRANS AM!_ after him.

Frank watches Gerard watch Stiles leave and prays to anyone who’s listening he has some idea of what’s going on because Frank? Frank apparently knows jack shit.

*

Maybe it’s a dick move bailing on Gerard right before he was going to introduce a real!! live!! werewolf!! to his awesome _space-and-time travelling buddies_ (and frankly it’s amazing that Gerard can be so shocked at the existence of one of those things when he literally lives as the other _apparently_ ) but the moment Derek catches the scent of marker pens and gingerbread syrup and petrichor he knows he’s not welcome here, knows he needs to leave. he’s not gonna force himself into stiles’ space, even though it’s kind of the only place he wants to be forever and ever for the rest of his life.

Gerard still looks super anxious and kind of crazed when the car skids to a stop next to Stiles jeep, but when he makes to get out Derek kind of just… refuses, motions for Gerard to go on without him. Gerard give him this _look_ and then asks in a low serious voice if Derek’s wolf senses are tingly. Derek cant help but bark out a dry laugh (because this guy is actually 100% for real) and shakes his head no but still doesn’t move. Gerard considers for a moment, looks at the sun in the sky (checking the time??? Derek’s still 99% sure that the story he heard before their mad dash is total bullshit, but the small part of him that’s entertaining the thought reckons that would make sense) and then slides back into the car with Derek and asks him, in a genuinely concerned voice, what’s bothering him.

And like, Derek figures this weird guy in the loud outfit with his old car and his too familiar eyes is as good a person as any to tell his pathetic life story to, esp because it’s kind already happened in reverse.

And so he does. not all of it obvs, not the bit about growing up happy and safe and loved or the bit where he and erica and boyd were a real pack for a lil while and he could feel his heart starting to mend slowly every day or even the bit where one dumb fuck on his part meant his entire family except for him got burned alive in their home. cuz like, no-one wants to hear that, right?

but he tells Gerard about helping Scott, right from the start, about endless crazy Alphas and druids and the nogitsune and the benefactor and that time when jackson was a kanima. and he tells him about falling in love with scott’s best friend, totally by accident, cuz for a while they hated each other right?? until one day they just, like, _didn’t_. and then Derek had to leave for a while because he was losing himself and he just needed some _time_ (because losing your power when you’re a born wolf and then fighting off your deranged uncle and your psychopathic ex and then being fucking _re-born_ really takes it out of you, go figure). and then he heard about the thing with the dread doctors and he’d had to come back because he (stupidly, idiotically, inadvisably) cared too much about the dumb teenagers that he’d left behind and suddenly Stiles was _Stiles_ , and then after a weird period of antagonistic sort-of flirting and one insane(ly awesome) night of angry sex Stiles was _Derek’s_ and things had finally been _perfect_.

and then Stiles graduated and went away to college and then graduated again and came back smarter and kinder and even more wonderful (both in bed and in person) than he’d been before he left (and Derek hadn’t even realised that that was possible but woah it _really_ was). but like… Stiles is bored here?? and so is Derek. it’s time to go, they both know it, both _want_ it more than either of them will admit, but Stiles wont leave his dad and Derek’s not gonna ask him to and so they’re stuck in this rut that Derek doesn’t know how to dig them out of. and it’s been building for a _long_ time, Derek could feel it coming but didn’t know how to deal with it. and so he got even clingier and more intense and kind of tried to suffocate himself in Stiles as an attempt to avoid it but that of course had eventually been the catalyst and now here he is, and there _Stiles_ is, in the bar, drowning the sorrows that _Derek_ caused and now cant fix.

He realises he’s kind of crying when he’s done and scrubs his hands across his face, tries to hide it as much as he can. it’s a total shock (but retrospectively really shouldn't have been) when Gerard just leans across the console and pulls him into a hug. he kind of resistant at first but like, what’s the point, and eventually he gives in and leans in too, resting his forehead against Gerard’s shoulder. Gerard pats his back kind of uselessly until he pulls away a little shakily.

so like, that’s why he’s not going in. and gerard is super understanding and really kind about it - he needs to go in to let the gang know he’s okay cuz, like, he’s WAY past late rn but he’ll come right back and drop Derek home like he promised. Derek agrees bc that seems pretty fair and rn he kind of wants to go to bed and cry some more so he moves back over into his own seat, nods at Gerard as he jumps out of the car and moves quickly over to the door. Derek watches him fling the door open (clearly not realising that it’s thin plywood painted to look heavy duty and thus smashing it against the inner wall, fuckin _newbie_ ) and pause just inside the building. then suddenly he’s looking back out, towards Derek sat in the passenger seat of the car, gesticulating wildly. Derek has literally no idea what he’s trying to say, mouths as much back, frowns when the flailing only gets bigger. he shakes his head, tries to mouth _what the fuck are you saying_ as clearly as he can but it’s to no avail. Gerard huffs (Derek can hear _that_ even from the car) and turns away, goes inside, lets the door close behind him.

And Derek stays and sits and stares hard at his hands. He’s imagining Stiles on his own, drinking and crying in the dingy bar all because he’d interrupted Derek one too many times when he was working and Derek couldn’t keep his big mouth shut in return and fuck, he’d give anything to be able to turn back time and fix this shit. Maybe he’ll beg Gerard to show him how.

The driver’s door opens after maybe five minutes and he doesn’t bother to look up, just asks if it’s all good? it it okay if they go?

And the voice that tells him he’ll be pissed if Derek leaves because, you know, he just got here is _definitely_ not Gerard’s nasally twang.

Derek looks up, his heart is pounding and he opens him mouth so say something, _anything_ to get Stiles to stay here with him and never leave and-

Stiles just _looks_ at him until Derek’s shut his mouth, and then goes _we both fucked this up_.

And Derek’s all NO Stiles omg you were right about everything and I knew something was wrong and you weren’t happy and I was scared because I couldn’t fix it and then I just lost it and _I was so wrong_ and-

And Stiles just says his name, not loudly, not with any anger or hate or sadness, just _says_ it, and Derek stops talking because that’s the kind of hold Stiles has on him.

 _we BOTH fucked this up._

it’s more meaningful, more final, and Derek can’t help the sob that hiccups out of him this time because Stiles says it like he’s done. It’s over, and sure Derek didn’t know what do to to fix it but now he’s never going to get the chance and it’s like his world is collapsing around him all over again.

But then Stiles is moving, climbing the console and straddling Derek where he’s sitting in the weird bucket seat. And Derek is so surprise he lets out a (super manly) squeak but Stiles is kissing him and it’s all warm and soft and _Stiles_ and Derek doesn’t know what happened because this isn’t how this conversation was supposed to go, Stiles is _done_ with him, right?

Except it doesn’t feel like that right now because they’re still kissing, sweet and insistent, _sorry_ , and then Stiles is mumbling something against his lips and when Derek pulls away, just a little, it turns out that it actually is a litany of _sorrysorrysorrysorry_ and his heart _breaks_ because Stile has _nothing_ to be sorry for but- he’s still a little confused here because _he thought Stiles wanted to leave? he thought they’d fucked this up?_

And Stiles just gives him another _look_ (and really it’s not fair how much one facial expression can do to him) and then curves his palms around Derek’s jaw and forces him to look up, to meet Stile’s searching gaze. 

_i said we’d _both_ fucked this up, yeah. and now? now we’re _both_ gonna fix it_.

And Derek doesn’t even know what to say because everything’s kind of okay all of a sudden?? like the world had been _ending_ a few seconds ago but now Derek’s brain is spinning in technicolour because stiles is _herehappysafemine_ and every part of his body that's touching Stiles is zinging with the whiplash of contentment.

And Stiles just laughs softly and drags Derek’s head so his face is smushed into Stiles’ shoulder and is all _hurry up and scent me motherfucker, i know how much you want to_ and Derek… pauses. because this is literally part of why they’d fought in the first place?? but Stiles must catch the hesitation because he brings his lips to Derek’s ear and whispers that he wishes Derek knew how much _he_ wants him to and that is ABSOLUTELY enough for Derek, _woah_.

They’ll have to talk about it, sure. like adults. and there’ll be crying and maybe more yelling and maybe they’ll leave and maybe they won’t. but he sure as hell isn’t going to let this happen, he’s _never_ losing this again because this right now? with Stiles straddling him and pressing butterfly kisses to every part of Derek’s face that he can reach, hands tangled in Derek’s hair as Derek holds him tight, pulls him impossibly closer and just drinks in _petrichormarkerpensgingerbreadsyrupSTILES_?? this is heaven.

*

Gerard’s trying to explain what’s going on and failing pretty spectacularly as far as everyone (including himself) is concerned. because he needs Derek to _show them_ okay because they _wont believe him_ otherwise but also Derek’s in the middle of something right now and he doesn’t wanna interrupt because Derek was is so much pain, _so much_ that it’s kind of eating Gerard alive from the inside rn (he’s definitely gonna have a whole lot of sympathy nightmares and spend a lot of time sobbing curled up into Frank’s belly for a while after this) and he wasn’t even the one that had to _live_ it.

And Gerard knows what it’s like to want - No., to _need_ something more, that ache deep in your bones pulling you constantly towards the light at the end of the tunnel. And he also knows what it’s like to be scared to leave, to have something that you’re too scared to leave behind. In the end of course Gerard hadn’t had a choice, but Derek _does_ , right? and hopefully there’s a healing process going on in the trans am right now that he’s definitely not thinking too closely about (because firstly _ew_ and secondly _woah_ ) and sure as hell isn't planning on getting in the way of, because this is totally what facilitates that choice, because Gerard knows that Derek wont make it alone.

And WOW how lucky was he that the key to fixing all of Derek’s problems just happened to be cosying up with none other than Gerard’s Frank?!?! because when he’d flung the door to the bar open the last thing he’d expected to notice was some kid slumped in the corner of a booth that was also occupied by his boys. it’d seemed almost to good to be true, but also kind of _right_. like _of course_ Frank would be the one to find the other half of this particular whole.

and yeah he gets a bit distracted because WEREWOLF HOLY FUCKBALLS but he pulls it together when he’s actually face to face with Stiles because he knows he needs to get this right. he’s not totally sure where the words come from, but when he leans in to whisper in Stiles’ ear he knows exactly what it is that Stiles needs to hear.

he barely has enough time to direct the kid to the right car before the door’s swinging shut on his ass.

And the guys are still looking at him with varying expressions of WTF (mostly _sleepy_ ones, in Mikey’s case) and all he can do is shrug and say _werewolf_ again kind of pathetically, before he gives up, shakes his head and heads to the bar.

he feels Franks arms sneak round his waist as he’s leaning against the counter and he leans back into the embrace, relishes the warmth and the solidity and the knowledge that he’ll always find it there. it’s weird; they’re together practically 24/7 and fucking or kissing or at least touching in some way for a good percentage of that time, but it’s so rare that they can be casually intimate like this in public??? Realistically, public spaces don't really exist where they're from, but even when they’re hopping they don't really spend that much time with other people, and it’s equal parts hair raising and fucking glorious to be able to just be in eachother’s space in the open without worrying about what’s gonna happen next.

frank makes some joke about Gerard’s words not working today and he wants to huff in annoyance but he _knows_ he’s not made any sense since entering the bar, and he also knows how much being left in the dark bothers Frank, and so he just sighs a little and rubs at his eyes and shrugs, mumbles that he’s _sorry_. Frank spins him so they’re face to face, eyes assessing, endlessly curious, but Gerard can’t see annoyance in them which is always a good thing. Frank cups his cheeks gently, huffs out a weird little breathless chuckle that kind of sounds like awe and whispers that _something’s really got to you, huh_.

and Gerard _knows_ that Frank believes IN him, even if maybe he doesn't BELIEVE him right now (and, like, WEREWOLF. _Gerard’s_ not sure he believes himself, to be fair to Frank). so he just leans their foreheads together, whispers back a promised _you’ll see_ and grabs Frank’s hand and his drink from the bar and leads him back over to the booth to where Mikey and Ray are now both dozing, leaning haphazardly against eachother.

Derek and Stiles walk back in probably half an hour later, hand in hand and smiling kind of dopily. Gerard has to fight to contain his glee to just a mental fist pump (and the Look Frank gives him tells him that maybe he’s not that successful but _whatever_ ) and waves them over. 

they move in sync, and it should be unsettling really but it’s just not. they’re so in tune (and that’s gotta be a werewolf thing, right?? super senses or something???), it’s like Stiles is Derek’s gravity. Seeing them together makes him wonder how he ever thought Derek looked natural when he was on his own. 

When they reach the table, Derek meets Gerard’s eye and grins, motions his head to the door. Gerard feels his eyes go wide and he cant help the answering grin that splits his own face. he grabs Frank, debates waking Mikey and Ray but decides against it. There’s time. there’s all night and even some of tomorrow, and he wants Frank to have this first. 

Frank, to his credit, does’t freak out like Gerard did (although being fair to himself he HAD been triggered to all hell in that fucking claustrophobic bathroom stall), but he _does_ let out a long, low whistle. a hushed, almost reverent _duuuude_.

Gerard’s all I KNOW RIGHT because Derek is standing there with CLAWS AND FANGS AND RED FLASHING EYES and Stiles is grinning and Gerard is grinning and now Frank is grinning because clearly regardless of whatever place in space and time you’re from and however long you’ve known about them, werewolves are the _coolest_ , oh my GOD. 

And they ask a million questions and Derek answers them all because apparently he is not only a werewolf but also an ABSOLUTE BABE, and then ray and mikey stumble out of he bar looking equal parts confused and asleep and they do it all over again and gerard cannot fucking believe that this is his LIFE, _seriously._

It’s Stiles that suggests that they come back and stay at their house. Ray is pretty (understandably) wary at first but they manage to persuade him (mostly, Gerard reckons, due to the whispered remark he overhears Mikey making to him about showers and their _first time in a real bed_ which EW PLS NO but also WOAH, because… well. that’s a really good point. 

They eat a _lot_ of junk food (bless Derek and his rich, takeout ordering soul) and watch all of the avengers movies (bless Stiles and _his_ nerdy, marvel-loving soul) and when Derek shows them each to (one of the many, apparently) guest en-suites, it’s all gerard can do not to literally _melt_ into Frank from sheer bliss as they move together against the soft sheets (and then up against the wall, on his knees in the shower, at the foot of the bed, again _under_ the sheets…) 

When Gerard falls asleep that night he’s feeling both well fucked and about ten times cleaner than he has is literal decades. When they wake up they’ll have to leave, and Stiles and Frank will cry and Gerard will ache deep in his bones because this is why they _don't do this._ Usually it’s not hard not to miss the little things like junk food and movies and toothbrushes, but being up close and personal with them brings it all back into a sharp and immediate relief when they’re about to have it pulled so violently away from them as they hop back to their home. 

and this time it’s so, so much worse, because this time there’s the _people_ that they come with. because the thing is, they’re not gonna meet again. Gerard knows that for certain deep in is gut even as he reassures Stiles with a fierce hug that _you never know_. because they never _will_ know. he’ll never find out if these kids make it through okay, make it _out_ okay. 

he’ll sit up late with Frank through countless nights in different places, talking it over and over, always wondering. one time, years down the line, they’ll hop to a town and learn that they’re barely a twenty minute ride from that place from years ago, and it’ll take everything they have not to jump in the trans am and drive back. 

they know how to let go though. it’s the one skill they’ve all held on to as the years passed; the only one they’ve always needed. eventually Stiles and Derek are just names, just faces in dreams whose eyes flash red, part of a past they’re rapidly forgetting because there’s just too much of it to remember. 

and maybe Stiles and Derek will be fine, and maybe they wont. Gerard will never know, and _no_ , that’s not okay with him. but time passes, and Gerard hops though it, and eventually? he doesn’t need it to be anymore. 


End file.
